The Apple and the Tree
by Christina TM
Summary: House would hate it if you interfered in his personal life. That's why he cleverly doesn't have one. That is, until it shows up at PrincetonPlainsboro Teaching Hospital.
1. Default Chapter

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Fox's.  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is for my friend Cheryl, a premed major who has unexplainable medical maladies like the one upon which this story is based. Also it's for erudaughter, who has read and given me advice on how to make this story readable.

RATED: PG

ARCHIIVES: House LJ fic Community

THE APPLE AND THE TREE – PROLOGUE

Nicole awoke with an awful headache. _Ow_she thought, trying to trace its origin. Most definitely not sinus-related, and more definitely not alcohol-related. She never got headaches. This was weird.

"Hey, Nicole?" It was her roommate, Clarisse. "You all right?"

"I have a really nasty headache," Nicole moaned.

"You want some ibuprofen?" Clarisse offered.

"Uh-huh," Nicole grunted, raising herself off the bed. She fell backwards with a sharp cry.

"Nicole?" Clarisse asked.

"Ow." Nicole buried her face in her pillow. "Clarisse, call an ambulance."

"Why?" Clarisse's voice was high-pitched with fear.

"Cause riding around with the lights flashing and the sirens blaring looks like fun," Nicole snapped. "Because my head hurts!"

"That bad?"

"Call the ambulance!" Nicole ordered.

"O-OK."

Nicole curled into a ball on her side. _Ow__. Ow…_


	2. Chapter One

AUTHOR'S NOTES: As of this writing, Hugh Laurie is forty-five years old. I don't think an age has been specified on the show, so I used Hugh's age as House's age. I'm also not sure what muscle is dead, but I picked quadriceps by process of elimination: calf muscle would equal inability to move foot, and hamstring even more difficulty walking. How's _that _for a little bit of medical reasoning?

THE APPLE AND THE TREE – CHAPTER ONE

Dr. James Wilson poked his head around the frosted glass door that read, LISA CUDDY, M.D. on the front. "You asked to see me?"

The brunette hospital administrator glanced up from whatever she was writing. "Ah, Dr. Wilson, yes."

Wilson stepped inside. "What's going on?"

Cuddy folded her hands. "I'm sure this is a stupid question, but…to your knowledge, does Dr. House have any children?"

Wilson's eyes widened. "Why?"

"A Nicole House checked in this morning with severe headaches," Cuddy said.

Alarm bells were going off in Wilson's head. "Nicole House?"

Cuddy's jaw dropped. "She's his, isn't she?"

"Wait," Wilson said. Maybe it was a coincidence. "How old is she?"

"She's twenty-two," Cuddy said, "and a student at Princeton University."

Wilson nodded. "That's her.

"House has a daughter?" Cuddy gasped.

"Yeah," Wilson said.

"Why didn't I know about her beforehand?" Cuddy asked

"They're not on good terms," Wilson sighed, wondering how he'd tell House about this.

"Who's not on good terms?"

Wilson turned around and groaned inwardly. There, standing in the doorway and leaning on his ever-present cane, was the scruffy, cantankerous Dr. Gregory House.

When neither doctor responded, House said, "What? Do I have a growth?"

Wilson cleared his throat. "Ah, House? Could we…?"

"What?" House asked.

"Just…" Wilson took his friend by the sleeve. "Come on."

"What?" House repeated, starting to sound annoyed.

Wilson found his office and pulled House inside. "Nicole's here," he said simply.

House stared blankly. "Nicole…?"

"Nicole _House?" _Wilson said. "Nicole your daughter? Nicole that tuition bill you get every month?"

"I know that," House said irritably. "Why is she here?"

"She's having severe headaches," Wilson explained quickly.

"Where?"

Wilson regarded the other doctor. "I just told you that your _daughter, _the one you haven't seen since she left for school, is here, and you're trying to give her a diagnosis."

"That's what doctors do, isn't it?"

Frustrated, Wilson sighed. "Greg! Nicole is here."

"We've covered that," House said.

"Don't you want to see her?" Wilson asked.

"Not particularly," House sat down at his desk. "And I'm sure she's not dying to see me, either."

Wilson shook his head. "You're the boss," was all he could think to say. "But I think you're being an idiot."

"When I want your opinion," House said sarcastically, "I'll beat it out of you."

"Chase?" Dr. Eric Foreman found his colleague sitting at a table in the Diagnostic Medicine lounge. "You got a second?"

"Sure." Chase put his pen aside. "What's going on?" He unscrewed the bottle of water sitting next to him.

"Does House have any kids?"

Chase nearly spit his water across the table. When he had recovered, he managed, _"House? Kids?" _

"OK, that's what I thought," Foreman sat down across the table.

Chase wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his lab coat. "Well, it's not _impossible, _I suppose, but…" the blond Australian looked up. "Why?"

"Someone named Nicole House was admitted this morning," Foreman said.

"What's going on?" Dr. Allison Cameron walked into the room.

"You know if House has children?" Chase asked.

Cameron's dark eyes widened. "I…seriously doubt it. How'd this subject come up?"

"There was a Nicole House admitted today," Chase explained.

"That doesn't automatically make her his daughter." Cameron moved to the coffee maker.

"Yes, it does."

All three doctors turned around and found Wilson standing in the doorway. "It does?" Cameron asked.

The oncologist nodded.

"House has kids?" Chase's eyes were wide.

"Kid." Wilson held up his left index finger. "Singular."

"He was married?" Cameron asked, remembering that he'd once told her he'd lived with someone.

Wilson nodded.

"What happened?" Foreman asked quietly.

"She died," Wilson answered. "Six years ago. She was giving someone a jumpstart and connected the cables badly. The battery exploded."

There was an uncomfortable silence while the doctors contemplated what they'd just learned about their boss. "Does this mean we can't handle Nicole's case?" Cameron asked.

"That's up to Cuddy," Wilson told her.

"I can't believe you never told me you had a daughter."

House looked at Cuddy quizzically. "Why does this surprise you? People have children; they procreate. It's how things work."

"I didn't think it was possible," Cuddy said.

House feigned offense. "You thought I was incapable?"

Cuddy was sure she blushed all the way from her toes to the roots of her hair. "No! Just that you're, well…you!"

"What does my being 'me' have to do with the natural course of things?" House queried.

Cuddy sighed heavily. _Because you're a nasty, mean, heartless SOB who's never cared about anyone else in your life, _she wanted to say. No, that would be unprofessional. "I didn't think anyone would take enough pity on you to actually be your wife."

"What's wrong with her?" House asked.

"Your daughter or the woman you married?" Cuddy couldn't resist.

House gave her a stare.

"She woke up this morning with severe pain in the back of her head," Cuddy said, wondering if the flash of concern in her employee's eyes was real or imagined. "Stroke and aneurysm have been ruled out."

"Tumor?"

"Foreman's got her in an MRI now," Cuddy said.

House's eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute…you gave this to my team without letting me know?"

"You can't handle this case," Cuddy told him. "Nicole is a member of your family."

"It's _my _team," House said. "You can't give them an assignment without my knowledge!"

"Well, now you know," Cuddy retorted. "Nobody else can figure out what's going on; Nicole goes to DM. That's how it works. And since you're not working on Nicole," she stood up to leave. "You can catch up on some clinic hours."

"How you doing in there, Nicole?" Foreman asked as he conducted the MRI.

"Fine," Nicole said, but she sounded nervous.

"Scared?" Foreman asked.

"I don't like small spaces."

Foreman chuckled. "Not many people do. Don't worry; not much longer."

There was no response. "Still with us, Nicole?" It might seem overprotective, but he'd seen too many seizures, blackouts, and other bizarre happenings in the MRI tube to be totally at ease.

"It smells funny in here," Nicole announced.

Foreman looked up at Cameron. "When are we going to get it to stop smelling? That guy ralphed in there back over Christmas."

Cameron shrugged and hit the intercom button. "Don't worry, Nicole. It's normal."

"All set," Foreman said.

Nicole sat up. "When do I hear the results?"

"Very soon," Cameron told her. "Within an hour."

Back in his office, House sat at his desk with his head resting on his forearms. I _Is this some kind of punishment for skipping clinic duty/I _He wondered to whoever might be listening.

Nicole was here. The Nicole he hadn't spoken to in four years. She was here.

Most people didn't know House had been married. In fact, excepting Wilson, House was pretty sure it was a secret from everyone at the hospital until today. Even those who heard it probably wouldn't believe it. After all, who'd want to marry a nasty, cynical, sarcastic SOB like him?

Darlene Jackson did.

Darlene had been the daughter of his mother's best friend. They'd grown up together. He'd never really considered her a good friend-he tried to shut her out same as he did everyone else. But Darlene was different. She kept coming back for more. It had annoyed him to no end. "What do I have to do to piss you off?" He'd asked her once when they were both teenagers.

Darlene had just smiled and said, "Nothing. I'm impossible to piss off."

There was something incredibly alluring about that. Darlene didn't run away at the first wisecrack. She almost seemed to enjoy it. He'd never admit it to himself or anyone else, but when he was seventeen Gregory House fell in love with a girl.

_Greg sat at the piano in his basement, plunking away at "Chariots of Fire." He finished the last measure and ended with a flourish._

_The sound of applause made him jump right off the piano bench. Standing in the doorway was Darlene._

_"Darlene!" Greg yelped. "I didn't know I had an audience." He hadn't even known Darlene was at his house, though it shouldn't surprise him. Her mother had a nasty habit of dropping in with little or no notice._

_"I didn't know you played," Darlene told him._

_"Well, now you know," Greg responded tersely, turning back to the music. He'd messed up the rhythm in the third system somewhere…_

_Darlene walked towards the piano. "How is it that we've known each other all these years and I never knew this about you?"_

_This was getting a little too close for comfort. "I keep it a secret."_

_"You shouldn't."_

_Greg looked at her through his eyebrows, the look his mother referred to as "The Hairy Eyeball." "And pray tell why not?"_

_"Because," Darlene shrugged uncomfortably. "You play beautifully. You shouldn't hide it."_

_"Oh," was all Greg could think to say._

_Darlene leaned on the piano. "Can you play anything else?"_

_Greg did not want to do this right now. Or ever. He hated playing in front of people. _

_"Come on," Darlene prodded. "You must be able to play _something _besides 'Chariots of Fire.'"_

_Well, she had a point. Greg picked up another book and opened to the first song. He began to play._

_"'Love Story'?"__ Darlene asked._

_Greg stopped. _That _was a bad choice. "You prefer something else?" He started to play "The Lady is a Tramp."_

_Darlene gaped at him indignantly. "'The Lady is a Tramp'! Gregory House!"_

_Greg snickered. "OK then, something more generic perhaps." He started to play "Splish Splash."_

"Splish splash I was takin' a bath/Long about a Saturday night…" _Darlene began to sing._

_Greg continued to play away as Darlene kept singing. She had a pretty voice, he noticed._

"Movin' with the groovin' splish splash yeah!" _Darlene finished with a big smile._

_"OK now," Greg said. _"I've _known you for as long as _you've _known me,_ _and yet I never knew you could sing."_

_Darlene blushed. "I can't really," she said, looking at the floor. "I just like that song."_

_"I've heard far worse," Greg told her._

_"Damning with faint praise," Darlene mumbled._

_For some odd reason, the idea that he might have offended Darlene bothered Greg. "No, that's not it," he tried to cover, "Just…" Dang, he was bad at this. "You've been to the Gong _

_Show at school. Kids who have way worse voices than you have performed there."_

_"So have kids who can't play as well as you," Darlene said softly._

_Greg shrugged it off._

_"I'll make you a deal," Darlene said. "If you'll play at the Gong Show in May, I'll sing."_

_Greg looked up with every intention of saying "Not on your life." But when he saw her, he reconsidered. Before he knew it, an "OK," made its way past his lips. /I _

And it all snowballed from there. He'd accompanied Darlene while she sang "Beauty and the Beast." They didn't get gonged. Before he knew it, House was head over heels in love with Darlene. She was the perfect complement to him-as kind and gentle as he was mean and rough. She had found her way under his cold exterior and melted his icy heart. He loved her like mad. Darlene put up with his wisecracks, his sarcasm, and his cynicism with a smiles, nods, and "I love you, Greg"s.

He'd even found the guts to propose to her in front of the family. He hadn't been sure she'd say yes-to date Gregory House was one thing, to commit to spending the days of your life with him was another entirely. To his great relief, she'd said yes, and amidst choruses of "we never thought this would happen" from both sides, they got married when they were still in college. He was planning on spending the next eight years or so in medical school, and waiting that long to get married just seemed like it would be asking for trouble. He'd made her promise that there would be no kids; Darlene hadn't softened him _that_much. She agreed, but no amount of agreement or protective measures could stop the natural progression of things.

_ I "Darlene, we discussed this," Greg told his wife impatiently._

_Darlene looked like she was just waiting for him to blow up at her (which she probably was). "Greg, what do you want me to say?"_

_"That this is all a dream," Greg told her._

_"Honey, I know you didn't want kids," Darlene said timidly. "But…" she shrugged. "It's going to happen."_

It doesn't have to,_ Greg thought, but knew better than to voice it. Darlene wouldn't even consider an abortion._

_"Why are you looking at me like this is my fault?" Darlene asked. "At least half the blame goes to you."_

_Well, that was undeniable. "I thought we used protection."_

_"It doesn't always work," Darlene answered. "Good heavens, Greg, you're a med student, you should know that."_

I do now, _Greg thought._

_"Greg, you're going to be a daddy," Darlene said quietly. "Aren't you excited about that? Even just a little bit?"_

_To say "no" would break Darlene's heart. To say "yes" would be a lie. And she would know it. So Greg said nothing._

_Darlene's eyes filled. "You're not, are you?"_

_Greg didn't answer._

_Darlene shook her head. "I knew you were heartless when I married you," she said. "But I didn't think it would extend to your own offspring."_

Looking back on it, House realized he'd been really insensitive when Darlene was pregnant. Of course, how was that different from when she was _not _pregnant? He didn't understand why she was moody, why she didn't feel good, why she wasn't herself.

"I don't do kids," he'd told his mother irritably.

"Greg," Mom had said patiently. "I know you don't like _other _people's children, but it's different when it's yours. Trust me."

She'd been right. House fell in love with Nicole from the moment the nurse put her in his arms.

_"Would you like to hold her?" The overly-perky maternity nurse asked, holding out a bundle of pink receiving blanket._

_"So…it's a girl," Greg said, regarding the baby in front of him as if it were a time bomb about to explode._

_The nurse nodded. "Here." She placed the baby into his arms._

_Greg froze momentarily. He'd never held a baby before. In fact, excepting his parents, his sister, and Darlene, Greg didn't think he'd held _anyone _before. But as he looked down at the little baby he held, all animosity he'd held towards her arrival drained away. "Hello there, Nicole Katherine," he murmured._

_Nicole stretched her tiny arm out of the receiving blanket and started to cry._

_"Aw, look, she's cranky _already," _Joanne said from behind him. "Just like Daddy."_

_Seeing as his arms were occupied, Greg settled for kicking his sister in the ankle._

She's beautiful, _Greg thought as Nicole settled down._

_"Getting soft on us, Greg?" Joanne asked teasingly._

_Greg glared at her. "You can be really annoying, you know that?"_

_Joanne just shrugged. "I learned from the master." She ignored his scowl and looked back at Nicole._

_"I guess we can just hope she ends up like Darlene," Greg said._

_"Oh, I don't know," Joanne said as Nicole opened her eyes a bit. "Those are _your _blue eyes."_

He'd been happy for eighteen wonderful years with Darlene and Nicole. But then one day, it all went south.

_House's pager went off. Frowning, he unclipped it from his belt. Who'd be paging him at one in the afternoon?_

Come to ER. 911 – JW

_A jolt of fear shot down House's spine. This had to be a problem with either Darlene or Nicole, and Nicole was in Baltimore at a gymnastics meet. Concluding that it had to be Darlene, House switched directions and headed for the emergency room. What had happened? Maybe it was fairly minor, he told himself. But then why would Wilson put "911" on the page?_

_When he got to the ER, House searched frantically for Wilson. _

_"Greg!" The other doctor waved him over. _

_"What is it?" House was aware of the panic creeping into his voice. Wilson looked like he had bad news._

_"Darlene was just rushed here," Wilson explained quietly._

_"Why?"_

_"Battery acid burns."_

_That was not the diagnosis House had expected. "What? How?"_

_"We don't know how it happened," Wilson told him. "The most plausible explanation is that she was jumpstarting a car and connected the cables badly."_

_"The battery blew up," House said absently, fear clenching his gut. "How bad…?"_

_Wilson paused a second before answering, "Bad. Looks like the battery blew up right in her face. Her head, shoulders, most of her upper body…"_

_House just shook his head, signaling his friend to stop._

_"I'm sorry, Greg," __Wilson__ said in a whisper._

House closed his eyes against the memory. If only Darlene had gotten out of the way. Instead, she'd been burned beyond all hope of recovery. She'd lived like that for a week until infection ravaged her system and she died.

Nothing had gone right for House after that. His relationship with Nicole had gone sour. She'd inherited his ability to lock all her feelings inside-not one of her (or his) best traits. Neither had been willing to discuss things. _If she'd wanted to, would I have been willing? _House wondered to himself. _No, probably not._

Then his leg had started bothering him. Nothing major, he thought. Stress reaction. Give it a few weeks and it'll leave on its own.

It hadn't. In fact, it got worse. Finally, he decided that he should see a doctor. Of course, he never got to keep that appointment.

_"Nicole, I'm sorry I won't be able to make it."_

_"Right.__ Like you always are."_

_"You need to understand-"_

_"No!" Nicole cut him off. _"You _need to understand! You haven't come to a meet since I was thirteen, Dad!"_

_"I'm busy," House told his daughter curtly. His leg was hurting. A lot._

_"Kelly's dad is a doctor," Nicole pointed out. "He makes it to all our meets."_

_"I am not having this discussion," House grumbled. His leg hurt and he was tired._

_"You're never having _any _discussion!" Nicole shouted._

_House wondered, not for the first time, why Nicole couldn't have been more like her mother. "Nic-" Pain exploded in House's leg. He gasped._

_"Dad?"__ The venom was gone from Nicole's voice. "What's wrong?"_

_House couldn't speak. He clutched at the kitchen counter in a valiant effort to remain upright._

_"Dad?"__ Nicole's voice was moving towards scared now._

_House sank to his knees, gritting his teeth against the pain._

_"Daddy?"__ He felt Nicole's hands on his shoulders. "Oh my gosh…I-I'm gonna call 911."_

That had been the final straw. His relationship with Nicole, shaken after Darlene's untimely passing, completely shattered. His fault, probably, though he'd never fully admit it even to himself.

Now he just had to figure out some way to _not _see her for as long as she was going to stay here.


	3. Chapter Two

TITLE: The Apple and the TreeAUTHOR: Same as last chapterPAIRING: Gen, with allusions to House/OFC  
RATING: PG  
WARNINGS: Ridiculous amounts of sarcasm, bad attitude, and angst.  
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. NOTES: _Yes, _if you plug an appliance in the wrong way the current _will _run through the casing rather than the wires. Oh, and regardless of which duckling (if any) gets axed, they all remain in place for this story.

THE APPLE AND THE TREE – CHAPTER TWO

"The MRI was inconclusive," Cameron told Nicole.

Nicole nodded. "Which is doctorspeak for 'You're in excruciating pain and we don't know what's wrong with you. Here, take these painkillers.'"

Cameron laughed a little. "You are your father's daughter," she said before she could think. Quickly, she added, "It also means you don't have cancer, an aneurysm, or a stroke."

Nicole's blue eyes darted in Cameron's direction. _House's eyes_, Cameron thought.

"How do you know who my dad is?" Nicole asked warily.

"I work for him," Cameron said, setting up the IV.

"My sympathies."

"It's not too bad," Cameron reassured, swabbing alcohol along Nicole's left forearm.

"Does he know I'm here?" Nicole's voice had gone from sarcastic to tentative.

Cameron paused a moment before sticking the IV in her patient's arm. "Yes, Nicole, he does."

Nicole just nodded.

"I'm sure he'll be up to see you at some point." Cameron taped the needle in place.

"Don't hold your breath." The sarcasm was back. "I'm not."

* * *

"It's not stroke, aneurysm, or tumor," Foreman announced. "What is it?" 

"Good question," Chase said as he prodded at the coffee maker.

"So it's not vascular or cancerous," Cameron mused, looking at the chart through her glasses.

"I think that's what I just said," Foreman fired back.

"What are our other options?" Cameron asked.

"The coffee maker's not working," Chase announced.

"Let me see," Foreman moved over to it. "What are her other symptoms?"

"Um…" Cameron flipped a page. "Not much, really. No vision problems, no-"

_ZAP! _Foreman went flying and crashed into the wall.

"Oh my gosh!" Chase gasped.

"Foreman!" Cameron rushed to her colleague's side.

"What's all the excitement?" House asked as he entered the room and hobbled over to the coffee maker. "Cause I'd hate to think-"

_"No!" _Chase and Cameron barricaded the coffee maker.

"Don't touch it!" Cameron ordered.

"No, House, don't touch it!" Chase said at the same time.

House raised his eyebrows. "Does it bite?"

"Yes," Foreman groaned, picking himself up from the floor. "What _was _that?"

House looked over the heads of his employees. "Ah." He reached out and unplugged the coffee maker, then plugged it back in. "The plug was upside down. Made the current run through the casing." He limped over to the table.

Foreman rose to his feet. "Chase, how did you not notice that?"

Chase shrugged innocently. "I don't know…felt kinda tingly."

"What's the diagnosis?" House asked.

The three doctors looked at each other. "Diagnosis…?" Chase asked.

"The young lady upstairs with the headaches?"

"Nicole?" Cameron asked. "We…we don't know. And…you're not on this case."

"I'm not?"

"Cuddy told you, I know she did," Foreman said. "Doctors don't treat members of their own families…even if it's members of their own family they're estranged from."

If House's expression could be interpreted as anything, it would be _busted. _

"Why didn't you tell us about her?" Cameron asked.

House shrugged. "What's to tell? I haven't seen her in four years; she hates me, end of story."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"What were you saying before Foreman got zapped?" Chase spoke up.

"Oh." Cameron looked down at the paper in front of her. "Right. No vision problems, no motor problems, no speech problems-"

"Sounds like everything's just hunky-dory," House put in.

Cameron looked at him a moment before continuing. "She said she was feeling nauseous when she got here, but now that we have her on pain medication she said she doesn't feel so sick anymore. It was probably a reaction to the pain."

"Hm," House tapped the handle of his cane against his chin. "So it's not stroke, aneurysm, or brain tumor-"

"What part of 'not on this case' didn't you understand?" Foreman asked irritably. "You shouldn't even be here. Go…put in some time at the clinic or something."

As if on cue, Cuddy burst into the office. _"There _you are," she said to House. "I've been looking _everywhere _for you. You were supposed to be in the clinic half an hour ago."

The other three doctors stifled their laughs.

"Come on." Cuddy grabbed House's arm. "Let's go."

"Aw, Cuddy _must _I?" House asked in an exaggerated whine. "If I lay off the Vicodin-"

"I don't want to hear it," Cuddy snapped. She dragged him down the hall, carrying on about how he was actually far more pleasant when on the meds.

* * *

House hated the clinic. Hate was too gentle a word. He didn't like dealing with people. Many doctors went into medicine because they liked helping people. House liked curing diseases. He liked solving the problems. Dealing with patients made most doctors miserable. 

"Hi," House said with as much cordiality as he could muster. "I'm Dr. House. What's the problem?"

The girl was probably about twelve and looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Mom?" She said softly to the woman standing next to her. "I want a girl doctor."

House tried not to roll his eyes. _Great.__ Female problems. This just isn't my day. Where's Cameron when you need her?_

"Don't worry, Andrea," the mother said. "I'm sure it's nothing Dr. House hasn't seen before."

House smiled as best he could. "Probably not. What's going on?"

"My stomach hurts," Andrea said shyly.

House nodded. "Lie down." Andrea obeyed. "Where's it hurt?"

"Down here." Andrea pointed to her lower abdomen.

House gently felt the area. No hard masses. He looked at Andrea. "Are you sexually active?"

Andrea flushed.

"Doctor!" Her mother said accusingly.

House turned his gaze to her. "Are you Andrea?" He looked back at his patient.

Andrea shook her head.

"Have you begun your period yet?"

Andrea's face was bright crimson. She didn't answer.

This was getting annoying. "Look," House said. "I've been a doctor for a very long time. Nothing you're going to say will shock me." Of course, that was the same thing he'd said to the young man who, it turned out, had an MP3 player stuck up his butt.

"Last month," Andrea's voice was barely audible.

"It's due again sometime this week," Her mother spoke up.

"I see," House said.

Andrea's mother looked scared to death. "Doctor, what's wrong with her?"

Good heavens. Moms were the worst. Why didn't fathers ever bring their kids to the clinic? "She has severe postprandial lower-abdominal distention."

All the color drained from the mom's face. "What's that?" She asked weakly.

House waited a moment before answering. "Menstrual cramps."

* * *

"A mom brings her twelve-year-old girl into the clinic with lower abdominal pain," House said later. "Sexually inactive; due for her period sometime this week. What's your first thought?" 

"I don't want to have this conversation," Wilson said quickly.

"Come on, _doctor," _House said in that annoying, abrasive manner of his. "What's your expert diagnosis?"

It was clear that House wasn't going to let him off this. "Ah…menstrual cramps?" Wilson guessed.

"Exactly!" House said. "Now, how is it that you, a man raised with two brothers and who has no children, could figure that out and a mother could not? That's why I hate the clinic."

"No." Wilson picked up a folder from the clinic nurse's station. "You hate the clinic because you're a misanthrope."

House raised his eyebrows. "A _misanthrope?"_

"Yes." Wilson began walking toward the elevator. "A misanthrope. You know, someone who's against his fellow man."

House followed him. "I'm not against my fellow man." His voice had that quasi-offended tone he often used when such a sentiment was expressed.

Wilson snorted and stepped into the elevator. "You're most assuredly not _for _him." He paused a moment, knowing this was going to be a delicate subject. "Have you been up to see Nicole yet?"

No answer.

"You haven't." He should have known.

"Why should I?"

"She's your _daughter," _Wilson said patiently. "Don't you think you should see her?"

House mulled that over. Or, more likely, _pretended _to mull it over. "Not really, no."

"Don't you _want _to see her?" The question was out before Wilson could think.

The door opened. House stared at Wilson for a second. "No." He left the elevator.

The doors closed again. _You know that's not true, _he thought to himself. Another thought occurred to him. _Isn't this Nicole's floor?_

_

* * *

_House hobbled his way through the hall, having an internal debate. He didn't not want to see Nicole. Not really. Part of him wanted to see her, _ached _to see her. The other part was deathly afraid of the reaction he'd get. Nicole and he were nearly strangers now. _Best to let sleeping dogs-_

House stopped. _Lie, _he finished the thought.He was standing outside a door looking right into his daughter's room.

She'd seen him.

House stood there a moment, weighing his options. He could walk away. No, that would be heartless even by his rather lofty standards. He could go in. But there was no way that could end well.

Nicole held his gaze, her face expressionless. It was almost like she was daring him to enter.

Before he even realized what was happening, House crossed the threshold into Nicole's room. "Hi."

Nicole looked at him. "Hi."

"How you doing?"

"I'm here," Nicole said coolly, her face still betraying no emotion. _Girl would be a fierce poker player. _"Why are you here?"

"I work here."

"I meant why are you I _here," _Nicole said. "In my room."

"Well, I was walking by, I saw you, you saw me, and I thought it would be rude to not stop in." It was the truth, after all.

"I see." Her headache must have left her unable to move her head, because she hadn't done so once since House had been there. Various diagnoses began running through his mind, but he knew it was worthless. He couldn't consult. "So you didn't come up here with the express intent of seeing me."

House shook his head. "I didn't even know you were on this floor."

"If you had, would it have made any difference?" Nicole asked.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Father and daughter just stood, staring at each other. Nicole hadn't changed much, if at all. Her hair was shorter. It had been down to her waist last time House saw her; now it looked like it was somewhere around her shoulder blades. That was the only change he saw.

"I miss you." House gave voice to his thought before he could stop himself.

That got a rise out of Nicole. "You I _miss _me?"

"That is what I said, yes."

"I don't believe this," Nicole said. "For four years, my only contact with you is a college tuition and now you say you I _miss me?" _  
House fumbled for words. "I-"

"Um, Dr. House?" It was Foreman. "I'm sorry, but I need to work on Nicole. You'll need to leave for a few moments…" he looked at Nicole. "Unless you want him to stay."

"No, no," House said quickly, trying to spare his daughter the embarrassment of actually kicking him out. Or maybe he was trying to save himself the embarrassment of _being _kicked out. "It's OK. I was just leaving."

Nicole stared at him hard. It was a look she'd clearly picked up from him. House got the message: "Leave and don't come back."

As he stepped out of the room, House decided to follow her unspoken order. He wasn't going to go back. It was clearly a waste of time. _Let sleeping dogs lie _he thought to himself, a bit more dejectedly this time.


	4. Chapter Three

TITLE: The Apple and the Tree  
AUTHOR: _Moi_  
PAIRING: Gen, with allusions to House/OFC  
RATING: PG  
WARNINGS: Do not use a metal fork to get your bagel out of the toaster.  
SUMMARY: House cleverly has no personal life. At least, that's what he wants everyone to think. But that idea's going to get a shake-up when a new patient arrives at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.  
DISCLAIMER: I own it. No, actually, I don't. I just felt like saying that.  
NOTES: I'm not a doctor, nor do I play one on the Internet. Please excuse any medical misnomers or doctorly deviations found in this chapter (and the rest of the story, for that matter).

THE APPLE AND THE TREE – CHAPTER THREE

Foreman sat at the table in the Diagnostic Medicine lounge, completely baffled. "There are dozens of conditions that account for fierce headaches," he said in frustration. "And Nicole doesn't have a single one of them!"

"Any other condition would cause a headache _and _something else," Cameron said. "All Nicole has is a headache."

"Twenty-two year old female, healthy as a horse, no history of headaches or neurological problems, comes in with a whopper of a headache and we can't tell why," Chase crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "The one doctor in the hospital who can figure out what's wrong with the girl is the one doctor who can't get anywhere near her. How's that for irony?"

"Are you sure she has _no _neurological history of any kind?" Foreman asked.

"We need House," Cameron said.

"We can't have House," Foreman told her. "Though, this is one time I actually wish he was here."

"No, I mean," Cameron took her glasses off, "we need to ask him if she's had any problems."

"I don't want to do it," Chase said immediately.

"None of us do," Foreman said. He looked at Cameron. "You do it."

The young doctor looked indignant. "Why me?"

"He likes you," Foreman said.

"No, he doesn't," Cameron rebutted.

"Get Wilson to do it," Chase suggested.

"I don't know what it is, but I want no part of it," a disembodied voice that sounded an awful lot like Dr. Wilson said from the doorway.

"We're trying to decide who should grill House for Nicole's medical history," Cameron said.

"No thanks." Wilson shook his head. "I don't think he really wants to talk to me right now."

Foreman thought about asking why, but decided it was best not to. "He _definitely _won't listen to me," he said. "It's down to you and Chase."

Both doctors looked at each other. "How should we settle this?" Cameron asked.

Chase seemed to think for a moment. "Rock-paper-scissors-shoot?"

Cameron snorted. "What is this, third grade?"

"You got a better idea?" Chase challenged. "We don't have time for a poker game."

Cameron sighed heavily. "OK; fine."

Foreman bit his lip to keep from laughing. This was going to be rich.

"Rock, paper, scissors, s_hoot!"_

Two papers.

"Rock, paper, scissors, _shoot!"_

Two rocks.

"Rock, paper, scissors, _shoot!"_

Chase had a rock, Cameron scissors.

_"Ah!" _Chase exulted, triumphantly crushing Cameron's scissors.

Cameron glared at him. "You planned that."

Chase smirked. "Have fun."

"Dr. House?"

"Cameron." The thin brunette looked like she'd rather be _anywhere _than here. House deduced that this _had _to be about Nicole.

"I need to ask you something," Cameron said.

"If it's about Nicole, I'm not interested," House said dismissively.

"I just need to know something about her medical history," Cameron said. "It won't take too long."

"Go ask her." House started to move away.

"It'll get you off the clinic for a few minutes!"

House stopped. "OK; fine." He turned around and faced his employee. "Fire away." He reached into his pocket for the Vicodin.

Cameron glanced at his hand for a second, then asked: "Does Nicole have any history of neurological problems?"

"When she was thirteen she had optic neuritis," House answered quickly.

Cameron's head snapped up. "No vision problems, though," she said.

"Doesn't always present with vision problems," House told her.

"All right," Cameron said. "Thanks." She started to leave.

"Cameron," House called her back. "How…how is she?"

Cameron paused before answering. "She's in pain, but otherwise OK. Why so interested?"

House tried to shrug it off. "Just…just curious." He really hoped Cameron would go off into being gooey and compassionate like she could get.

She probably didn't believe him, but wisely chose not to press the matter. "OK."

Cameron stood in the doorway, observing Nicole. She sat with her head cocked to one side, staring off into space. The resemblance was always strong, but right then Nicole looked like a carbon copy of her father.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Cameron asked brightly.

Nicole slowly turned her head in her direction. At least she could move it again, though it was probably more a result of drugs than anything else. "If you really want to know," she said, "I've been taking a hop backwards on my Yurchenko-full vault. If I opened my arms a little sooner, maybe I could stick it."

Cameron laughed before she could help himself. "OK, I'm gonna pretend I know what that means." She stepped into the room.

Nicole tapped her right forefinger against her chin-another Houseish mannerism. "Or I might be pushing off the table too late…no, that would make me land in a pike position…"

"Have you always thought out loud like this?" Cameron asked as she checked Nicole's IV fluid.

"No, not always," Nicole said. "Only since I could speak."

Cameron smiled a little, amused. _Definitely House's daughter. _"We think we may have figured out what's wrong with you," she told Nicole.

Nicole sat up straighter. "Do tell,"

"Your dad told me you had optic neuritis when you were a teenager," Cameron said. "Is that true?"

Nicole nodded a little. "Yeah. I thought I told you…?"

"I don't remember hearing it," Cameron said. "Neither does Chase or Foreman."

"Oh," Nicole looked embarrassed. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Cameron reassured her. "You're not the first patient to make that kind of oversight. Dr. Foreman's going to do a test to make sure, and if that's it we'll get you better and send you home."

"Sounds good," Nicole said. "So…you guys talked to my dad?"

Cameron nodded. "Just about your medical history; nothing more." She just had to mention it. "Dr. Foreman said he came to see you last night."

Nicole shrugged a little. "Yeah. Just a courtesy thing."

"He asked how you were doing today," Cameron offered, hoping that would lift Nicole's spirits a bit.

Nicole blew it off. "He just likes knowing stuff."

Well, _that _was certainly true. "He never asks how people are doing," Cameron said.

Nicole had gone from looking bitter to just looking sad. "We used to be inseparable, you know that?" She said softly, talking to herself more than Cameron.

"What happened?" Cameron asked.

"My mom died," Nicole said. "That was the end of it. He never even _talked _about her again. I thought things couldn't get any worse, then his leg went sour." She paused a moment, and Cameron wondered if she was crying, but she spoke again and her voice was steady. "And that was it. I was sixteen. Doing the whole dating game, typical adolescent angst, and on top of it all my dad stopped loving me."

Cameron put a hand on her shoulder. "He didn't _stop _loving you," she said gently. "He was just…he was scared and confused. People react to things like that differently. Some people externalize it and others internalize it. Your dad internalized it. That doesn't mean he stopped loving you and caring about you."

Nicole glanced up with a dejected look that made Cameron's heart ache. "I was scared and confused, too. I needed him, and he wasn't there for me."

Wilson bent over the nurse's station, squinting at a patient's chart. Sighing in frustration, he batted a piece of hair out of his eyes. He needed a haircut.

"Julie went home to her mother."

Wilson glanced up at the familiar voice and, though a screen of hair, found its owner standing above him. "What makes you say that?" He swatted the errant lock back, but it just flopped back into his face.

House flicked at the hair in question. "She'd have gotten after you about this by now," he said. "And seeing as you've let it go this long, she's left for an extended period of time and taken all styling products with her." He smirked, clearly certain that he'd hit the nail on the head.

It really bothered Wilson that House had made this observation, and it was even more bothersome that he was right. He decided to give the scruffy doctor a taste of his own medicine. "Heard you went to see Nicole last night."

House sighed petulantly. "Why is it that everyone in this hospital knows more about my life than I do?"

"You can speculate as to whether or not my wife has run out on me, I can ask if you've spoken to your daughter," Wilson quipped. "How'd it go?"

"Oh, just great," House said sarcastically. "We hugged, we cried, everything's all hunky-dory now. It was beautiful."

"You should go see her again," Wilson said bluntly.

"Whatever for?" House asked. "She wants nothing to do with me." He walked away.

Wilson was a patient man-he had to be; being House's friend and all-but his patience was wearing thin. He took off after House. For a guy with a game leg and a cane, House could actually get along pretty fast.

"Stop following me," House said testily.

Wilson decided the only way to get House to listen was to be the biggest pain in the neck he possibly could. "Go ahead, outrun me." House glared at him, but stopped moving. Satisfied that he had the other doctor's attention, Wilson continued. "You love her."

House just stared at Wilson for a moment. "I do love her," House admitted. "I love her more than anything in the world."

"So why are you avoiding her like the plague?" Wilson challenged.

"Because she stopped loving me a long time ago," House stated.

"That isn't true," Wilson rebutted.

"Yes, it is!" House said, loudly enough to draw some stares. He gave the onlookers a glare that would freeze ice water in July and they quickly looked away. "Look, I love Nicole, OK? But she's made it abundantly clear that she wants me out of her life. It's better for both of us if I just stay away." He started to leave, then turned back. "Oh, and Wilson? Get a haircut. Seriously. You're starting to look like Shaggy from _Scooby-Doo"_ He hobbled away.

Frustrated, Wilson blew his hair out of his eyes. And this is my friend, he thought wryly, deciding to procrastinate a bit more just to get on House's nerves.

"The test came back," Foreman said in the DM lounge. "Nicole does not have optic neuritis."

Chase and Cameron just stared at him.

"Then what _does_ she have?" Cameron asked helplessly.

Chase sighed wearily and dropped his head into his hands. "We _really_ need House."


	5. Chapter Four

TITLE: The Apple and the Tree  
AUTHOR: Stephen King. No, actually, it's me; I just wanted to assure that you were paying attention.  
PAIRING: Gen, with allusions to House/OFC  
RATING: PG  
WARNINGS: Do not run with scissors  
SUMMARY: House cleverly has no personal life. At least, that's what he wants everyone to think. But that idea's going to get a shake-up when a new patient arrives at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.  
DISCLAIMER: If I owned _House, _this would be an episode and not a fanfiction.  
NOTES: I'm not a doctor, nor do I play one on the Internet. Please excuse any medical misnomers or doctorly deviations found in this chapter (and the rest of the story, for that matter)

THE APPLE AND THE TREE – CHAPTER FOUR

Chase opened the door to Nicole's room. "Hi there, Nicole," he said.

Nicole coughed. "Hi."

"You don't sound too good," Chase said.

"My nose is stuffy and my head hurts," Nicole said. "But I guess the stuffy nose is all that's new."

"Does your head hurt more than yesterday?" Chase put on his stethoscope and placed it on Nicole's chest. "Breathe."

Nicole did as she was told. "Different." The word vibrated in Chase's ears.

"Breathe again," Chase instructed her, moving the stethoscope.

Nicole obeyed.

"Lungs sound clear." Chase removed the stethoscope. "What do you mean 'different'?"

Nicole sneezed. "Like, more pressure than pain."

"Hm," Chase said. "You probably just have a cold. I'm gonna take your temperature and make sure you don't have a fever."

Nicole sniffed. "OK."

Chase prepared the thermometer, wondering if he should mention House at all. _Probably not, unless the topic comes up._

"Dad?"

Chase looked up. House was standing in the doorway, leaning on his cane. _OK, looks like the topic's come up. _

"Hi, Nicole," House said. He looked at Chase. "I'll, uh, come back later."

"I'll be done in a few moments," Chase assured.

"Gosh," Nicole sighed. "He won't leave me alone."

"He's your dad," Chase told her. "That's his job."

"He stopped being my dad a long time ago," Nicole sighed.

Chase paused a second before putting the thermometer in Nicole's ear. He knew that feeling. "He loves you, Nicole."

Nicole snorted a little. "Well, I don't love him. Not anymore. It hurts less. When I didn't expect him to show up at my gymnastics meets and he didn't, I didn't care. When I didn't expect a hug when I got home from school and I didn't get one, I didn't care. When I didn't expect him to talk to me or ask how I was doing and he didn't, I didn't care. It's just easier."

Chase stood unmoving, staring down at the thermometer without registering what it said. That hit too close to the bone. He cleared his throat. "Listen," he sat in the chair next to Nicole's bed. "My parents split up when I was fifteen. My mom died five years later. I was mad at my dad; I didn't see him for years and I thought I didn't care about it. Then one day-"

"He came home, gave you a nice profound little speech, and now everything's all hunky dory," Nicole predicted sarcastically. "Save your breath. I've heard it all before."

Chase shook his head. He wished that had happened. "No," he said quietly. "My dad's dead, Nicole. He died of lung cancer. I used to think that not caring hurt less, too, but I was wrong. It hurts _more _if you don't care. My dad's gone now, and I'll never see him again. I wish now that I'd at least tried to make things right with him, because then I'd know there was a chance. But I never did." He took a shaky breath. "And now I wonder every day what might have happened if I'd just made an effort."

Nicole was looking at her hands, clearly thinking about what he'd said.

"Someday your dad's gonna be gone, too, Nicole," Chase continued gently. "And when he is, you'll have one of two things: a lot of regrets or a memory that you at least gave it a shot."

Nicole glanced up, her eyes glassy. Chase pretended not to notice. "You don't have a fever," he told her.

Nicole nodded a little and turned her gaze away.

* * *

"The dad _really _kicked you out of the room because he didn't want a black guy treating his daughter?" Cameron asked as she and Foreman walked toward the DM lounge. 

"Yup," Foreman answered. "Guess he still hasn't gotten over that little misunderstanding back in 1860."

Cameron pushed the door open. "What would we do if we were all the same color?" She asked philosophically.

"Hate Jews." Foreman followed her into the lounge. "Oh…Dr. Wilson."

Cameron winced internally. "Dr. Wilson! You're…" she racked her brain for a response. "Here." _Wow, that was lame._

Dr. Wilson nodded. "Getting some coffee. I wonder: what would we do if we were all Jewish?"

Cameron bit her tongue to keep from laughing at the look of total discomfort on Foreman's face. "Hate blacks?" He asked.

"Uh," Cameron cleared her throat. "We, um, should be getting in there, maybe Chase has something new on Nicole…"

Wilson nodded. "Foreman? I'm not offended. I've heard it before."

Foreman relaxed. "Oh. Good."

Wilson began to walk away, and then turned back. "Oh, and it's true."

Foreman and Cameron stifled their laughter. "I think House is rubbing off on him," Cameron observed.

"How's Nicole doing, Chase?" Foreman was obviously eager to put the whole conversation behind him.

"She wasn't feeling too well when I saw her this morning," Chase started. "Stuffy nose, cough, and sinus headache."

Cameron wrinkled her nose. "Sounds like a cold."

"Her temperature's normal, so probably," Chase said. "We'll monitor her and make sure it doesn't get worse."

"We've gotta figure out what put her in here, though," Cameron looked sat at the table. "We can only keep pumping narcotics into her for so long. We're sure the headache and the cold are unrelated?" Cameron asked.

"No reason to believe otherwise," Chase said. "The headache she came in here with was _not _sinus-related. Unless she gets worse, we'll have to believe this is a coincidence."

* * *

House nervously stepped into Nicole's room. Wilson's constant needling had convinced him to try talking to Nicole, if for no other reason than to appease Wilson. 

He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but this was something House had wanted to do for a long time. He hated having a valley between him and Nicole. She was one of the few people in the world he actually _wanted _a relationship with. But Nicole was stubborn to the point of boneheadedness, just like her old man. House was more than prepared to get kicked out of the room. "Nicole."

Nicole looked at him. "You're like a horsefly. I step on you and you keep coming back."

Well, this was getting off to a fine start. House bit his tongue to hold in a sarcastic response. "I need to talk to you," he said calmly.

"I don't have anything to say to you," Nicole said simply.

House fought the urge to get annoyed. "Well, I have something to say to you. Will you listen?"

"Once you've said it, do you promise to go away?" Nicole asked.

Those words cut straight through House's heart-if he had one-but he tried not to show it. "If that's what you want."

"Fine," Nicole conceded. "Jabber away."

House sat down in the chair by Nicole's bed. "Listen," he said. "I don't even know where to start." It was true. He didn't know.

"I can think of a place."

"I thought you had nothing to say to me," House said, unable to keep from being a bit amused.

"I just came up with something," Nicole shot back. "Why did you stop loving me after Mom died?"

"I never stopped loving you, Nicole," House countered.

"Then why wouldn't you let me come see you when you had your infarction?" Nicole asked.

"I didn't want you to see me like that," House explained.

"Yeah, your pride was more important to you than your own daughter." Nicole was getting angry.

House leaned forward. "Nicole, that's not true."

"Oh, stop with the BS!" Nicole snapped. "It _is _true! Mom had been dead less than two months, and I thought you were dying too! I didn't care that you couldn't walk! OK? I _didn't care! _I just wanted to see you! I was _scared! _I needed you, Dad! I needed you and you weren't there!"

That was a little more venom than House had been prepared for. He took a moment to recover. "Nicole-"

"Ow." Nicole brought her hand to her head.

"Nicole?" House sat up straighter.

_"Ow." _Nicole began breathing harder. Her pain was increasing.

"Nicole?" House stood up, concern taking over any anger. "Honey?"

Nicole doubled over in pain, clutching at her head with both hands.

Panic surged through House's system. He hopped/limped over to the door. "Someone get in here!" He barked down the hall. "Now!"

Nicole was now curled onto her side, still holding her head. House hobbled back over to her bed. He wasn't going to abandon her this time. "Nicole?" He asked tentatively, putting a hand on her shoulder. She was shaking-a very bad sign.

"Ow…Daddy…" Nicole whimpered.

"Dr. House, we're going to have to ask you to leave," one of the doctors said.

"What's wrong with her?" House asked, fatherly worry taking over doctorly protocol.

"Please, you need to leave," the doctor said, gently pushing House out of the room.

House stood frozen where he was. He couldn't move. A hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him into the hallway. It was Wilson, but House barely noticed. "Close the blinds." He heard a doctor say.

The beige blinds slid shut. House covered his eyes with his free hand while the other gripped his cane so tightly that its imprint would probably be etched on his hand for all eternity. Wilson cautiously rubbed his back.

* * *

_"She's gone, House. I'm sorry."_

_He'd known for a week that he'd hear those words. But that didn't make them any easier to accept. House just nodded, not trusting his voice. Dr. Young gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and left._

_House picked his head up and looked into Darlene's room. "Goodbye, Beautiful," he whispered hoarsely. The burn had left Darlene unrecognizable. Even if she'd survived, she never would have looked the same. The acid had burned her eyes and she would most likely have been blind._

_He didn't care. She was still his Darlene, whether she couldn't see or couldn't talk or couldn't do anything else. He still loved her. _

_House sat down on the couch behind him dropped his head into his hands, trying to ignore the burning sensation in his eyes._

_"House?"_

_House picked his head up and saw __Wilson__ standing next to him. The oncologist's boyish face blanched. "Oh, no."_

_House nodded, tears finally overwhelming him._

_"Oh, gosh, Greg, I'm sorry." __Wilson__ sat down and placed an arm around House's shoulders._

_House hadn't wept in ages. He honestly couldn't remember the last time something had brought him to tears. He hadn't missed it, either. In a better mood, he might have wondered what exactly it was that teenage girls found so enjoyable about this._

_Darlene was dead. Gone. Forever._

_Forever._

_He'd never hug her again, never kiss her again, never see her smile or hear her laugh. He'd never get home from a bad day at work and watch her listen with a patient smile as he described all the stupid people who'd come through the clinic that day. After every diatribe, she'd do the same thing: pat his arm (or kiss his cheek, if they happened to be sitting down) and say, "I love you, Greg. And don't worry. It'll all look better in the morning." She was such an eternal optimist-a good complement to his sarcasm and cynicism._

_Several minutes later, House drew in a ragged breath and slumped against __Wilson__'s shoulder. He didn't feel any better; he just didn't have the energy to cry anymore._

_"Does Nicole know yet?" __Wilson__ asked gently._

_House shook his head, tears welling in his eyes again. "I really don't want to tell her." He'd encouraged Nicole to go to gymnastics today; she hadn't been since her mother's accident and it would be a good distraction._

_"When's her practice over?" __Wilson__ asked. "We could call the gym and I could go get her, if you want to get this over with."_

_House shook his head. "No." He wiped his eyes. "No. Let her have two more hours of happiness. Wish I did."_

_They sat there for the next two and a half hours until Nicole got to the hospital. Every time House thought he was OK, he'd think about having to tell Nicole her mother was dead and he'd break down all over again. He'd told dozens of children their parents hadn't survived an illness or operation. Years of medical training told him to be detached; years of being a dad told him that would be impossible. He couldn't just say, "Your mom didn't make it. We did everything we could."_

_"Nicole's here," __Wilson__ said. _

_House looked up and saw Nicole, clad in gray sweatpants and a white sweatshirt that read TALL GYMNASTS ARE SEXY across the front in big red letters, wandering through the hall. If she knew, she wasn't showing it. That meant very little with Nicole, though. She had a good game face when the need arose._

_"I'll leave you two alone," __Wilson__ said, squeezing House's shoulder and getting up to leave._

_House stood, feeling bone weary and dreading what he had to do. "Nicole." His voice sounded harsh and scratchy even in his own ears._

_Nicole stopped in front of him. "Mom's dead." It was a matter-of-fact statement, not a question. "Her room's empty, Dr. Wilson left as soon as he saw me, and you're crying."_

_At least she'd figured it out on her own. House looked at her blankly, at a total loss for words. _

_"Sh-she is, isn't she?" Nicole's brave front was cracking._

_House closed his eyes and nodded._

_Nicole covered her face with both hands and shook her head. "No."_

_"Nicole…"_

_"No!" Nicole said, louder this time. She backed away, her hands moving to cover her ears._

_"Nicole." House lunged forward and hugged Nicole tightly, trying to keep her from backing into some poor unsuspecting candy striper and adding insult to injury._

_Nicole buried her face in his chest and began to sob. "Mom…"_

* * *

House took his hand down from his eyes. The blinds were open, and Nicole was lying still as death on the bed. "What's wrong with her?" House asked the doctor standing near the door. 

The doctor-Edwards, House thought his name was-shrugged. "We don't know."

House looked back at his daughter, trying to ignore the terrible feeling in his gut. It was the same feeling he'd had when he learned of Darlene's accident: he was completely, totally, and utterly helpless.


	6. Chapter Five

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Underlined phrases are supposed to be strikethroughs. I know there's a way to do it, but I don't know what it is, so use your imagination :).

THE APPLE AND THE TREE – CHAPTER FIVE

"Nicole's gotten worse," Foreman reported.

Chase looked up. "What? How?"

"She was talking to House and her headache escalated," Foreman explained.

"Not an uncommon reaction to having a conversation with House," Chase quipped in an uncharacteristic moment of sarcasm.

"She hit a ten on the pain scale," Foreman continued. "She's in a medically-induced coma. We can't put enough medicine into her to make the pain bearable."

Chase and Cameron were both silent. "Any clues?" Cameron asked softly.

Foreman shook his head. "No. But we need to get some. Fast."

* * *

House cringed at the sound his piano made. He jerked his foot off the pedal, sending a jolt of pain through his game leg, and squinted at the music in front of him. _Idiot, _he chided himself. _You forgot to flat the B. _He tried again. There. Much better. 

After playing another few measures, House decided it wasn't happening. His mind wasn't on the piano tonight. He was too busy thinking about Nicole. Her condition was "stable." Unfortunately, she was stably in a medically-induced coma because the pain had become too severe for her to function.

He loved Nicole. He'd never admit it to anyone except maybe Wilson, but he did. Yes, even though talking to Nicole was too often like talking to a younger female version of himself-that had amused his mother to no end-and even though she could be stubborn and sarcastic and hard to get along with. She was still his little girl.

When she was little, Nicole had made a habit of climbing into his lap while House played the piano. He placed his hands on the keys and played through "Beauty and the Beast," the song he had played when Darlene sang at the Gong Show, and also the first song he'd ever played for Nicole.

_House opened the door and heard his piano being abused in the living room. "Nicole playing her masterpiece again?" He asked Darlene._

_Darlene stretched up to kiss him-and it was quite a stretch, seeing as she was a good deal shorter than he was-and said, "She's been doing this all afternoon. I'd tell her to stop, but I think that would be a little hypocritical, seeing as I can't do any better." She shrugged. "Besides, it keeps her busy."_

_House removed his jacket. Their four-year-old was a bundle of energy. "At least she's low maintenance." He walked into the living room. Nicole was sitting on the piano bench, happily pounding away at the piano. "What are you doing, Nicole?" He asked her._

_Nicole turned to him and smiled. "Playing," she said. "Like you."_

_House couldn't help chuckling. "Like me, hm?" He sat down on the bench and sat his daughter on his lap. "OK, _this _is how Daddy plays." He started to play "Beauty and the Beast." As he did, he remembered the Gong Show all those years ago, when Darlene had been so nervous to sing in front of all those people. Later on in their dating life, Darlene had remarked on what an appropriate song that was for them. _If she's Beauty, that makes me the Beast, _House thought. Well, it was an apt metaphor._

_When he finished playing, House glanced down at Nicole. Her tiny head was rested on his chest and she was sound asleep._

_House paused for a moment, staring down at his daughter. It was almost heartwarming…almost. _In order for a scene to be heartwarming, one must first have a heart, _he thought. Slowly, trying not to wake Nicole, he stood up and carried her off to her bedroom._

House had tried to dissuade her from taking up gymnastics. It was fairly clear by the age of seven that she had the wrong body type for it. She was built just like him-tall and comprised entirely of arms and legs. He didn't want her to experience the frustration that he knew would come along with wanting her body to do something it couldn't do. But it would be a good outlet for her energy, he guessed. All it did was give her something pretty to do with her energy. She'd just tumble on the floor for at least an hour each night until she got too big for it, at which point she took it to the backyard. She'd tried a back handspring in the driveway once and landed on her head. Athletic tape was a constant in their medicine cabinet; House really should have bought stock in Ace. Leotards were a regular part of the Saturday wash. There were always ice packs in their freezer, ready to apply to whatever bump or bruise or strain or sprain might come home this time. And it was _always _something.

"Don't you get enough of this stuff at practice?" House would ask as Nicole did balance beam on the kitchen tiles.

"Nope," she'd say with a smile.

Nicole never got discouraged. Not when she became a full head taller than every other gymnast on her team, not when she broke her sternum and spent a week in bed-a bad week for all involved-not when she _just _missed the deadline to move up to the next level. Never.

He'd never told her how proud he was of that. He really should have. He should have made more of an effort to attend her meets, maybe learn exactly what that "flyaway" was she'd needed to move up to Level 6-or was it 5? He couldn't remember.

He _should _remember. It was Nicole's passion. House hadn't made the slightest move to be interested in it.

He'd used work as an excuse not to attend her meets. Sometimes it was legit, but others it was just an excuse. The last meet he remembered attending was a state meet when Nicole was fifteen. He was really glad he'd gone, actually-it would've been a bad night in the House residence had he missed the day Nicole became the New Jersey State Vault Champion.

When she'd gone to college, they'd stopped having any form of communication. There wasn't any big fight, or any kind of falling-out. They just…stopped. House didn't know where Nicole spent her Christmas breaks or her spring or summer vacations. With his sister, maybe. But wouldn't Joanne tell him? No, Nicole probably didn't want him to know.

Last they'd spoken, Nicole had wanted to be a police detective. A fine career for someone who worked through problems just like House. Was that still her goal? Well, really, what were her other options? She'd once considered being an attorney, but Darlene had (wisely) talked her out of it. Nicole would be an attorney until she was thirty and spent the rest of her life in jail for contempt of the court.

And now Nicole was lying in a coma in the hospital. House knew he was the only doctor who could figure out what was going on in her head. He was also the only doctor who couldn't get near her.

_Who says? _Some little voice in his head challenged. _You've broken rules before._

_Vogler__ will fire you, _another little voice piped up, referring to Edward Vogler the pompous new chairman of the board.

_He'd need full board approval to axe me, _House countered, getting rather annoyed with this inner voice.

_He'll make your life miserable._

_He already does that._

_Keep your head down. Let the ducklings handle this._

_If I do that, Nicole might die._

Die.

House stood up and grabbed his coat. He didn't care about Cuddy. He didn't care about Vogler. They could do whatever they wanted. He was _not _putting another woman he loved in the ground.

Taking the keys and his cane, House moved as quickly as he could toward the door. He was going to figure out what was wrong with Nicole, whatever it might cost him.

* * *

Cuddy tore through the halls, ready to give House both barrels about skipping on the clinic _again. _Vogler wasn't going to be happy about this. He was still ripping about the lab coat. 

"House!" Cuddy turned right sharply when she saw a tall figure hobbling into an office with GREGORY HOUSE, M.D. printed on the glass door. He didn't respond, so Cuddy followed him in. "We have _got _to talk about this," she said. "You can't be…" she trailed off. House wasn't listening. More than that, he was _ignoring _her. He was wearing the same clothes he'd worn yesterday and he looked thoroughly exhausted. Had he been here all night? No, she'd seen him leave yesterday.

"House?" Cuddy walked closer, curiosity taking over anger. "What are you doing?"

He didn't answer, so Cuddy peered around him at the board. It was filled with black markings, one-word diagnoses, some crossed out and others not.

HEADACHE

STROKE  
SINUS  
ANEURYSM  
TUMOR

NERVES?  
OPTIC  
OCCIPITAL

"This is Nicole," Cuddy said, looking up at House.

"Mm-hm," House murmured.

"House," Cuddy said warningly. "You know-"

"I know the rules," House said absently, writing CAUSE? underneath OCCIPITAL. "I'm just ignoring them."

Cuddy didn't know why that shocked her. "You can't do that."

"Watch me." House wrote PRESSURE beneath CAUSE?

"Vogler will have your head," Cuddy said, referring to the chairman of the board.

"Vogler can kiss my butt."

"House, you could get fired!" Cuddy said, although that was a stretch. Vogler would need a unanimous vote to get rid of House. Cuddy wouldn't vote for it and Wilson wouldn't either.

"I don't care about my job right now!" House snapped. The force in his words made Cuddy stumble backwards. "OK? It means _nothing _to me! Vogler can fire you, fire me, fire my staff, chuck the whole department! I don't care! I am _not _going to watch someone else I love die at this hospital! It's not happening! Got it!"

Cuddy stood in shock for a few moments. Who was this man standing in front of her? She'd never seen House so emotional. She hadn't thought he had it in him.

_"…someone else I love…" _"Your wife died here."

House's hand on the marker stilled.

"What was her name?" Cuddy asked, feeling some inexplicable need to know the name of the former Mrs. House.

"Darlene." House's voice was barely above a whisper as he wrote COLD below PRESSURE.

_Darlene. _The name brought to mind the image of a serene, patient woman. Probably exactly what Darlene had been. "House-"

"Cold…" House murmured. "Did she have a fever?"

Cuddy wondered what this had to do with Darlene, and then realized House was musing out loud.

"Pressure at her head…" House brought his right hand around the back of his head. "Right here."

Cuddy raised her eyebrows. "House?"

House lifted his head. "I know what's wrong with her." He started to walk out of the room.

Cuddy snagged his arm. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm rounding up the ducklings," House said.

"You can't do this," Cuddy said, even though she knew it was futile. "What am I supposed to tell Vogler?"

House regarded her for a second. "Stuff it."

Cuddy's jaw dropped. _"What?"_

House looked almost smug. "Stuff it."

"I can't say that!" Cuddy sputtered.

"Tell him it's a personal memo from me." House pulled his sleeve out of her grasp and left the office.

He was well out of earshot before Cuddy remembered she hadn't given him a hard time about the clinic.

* * *

"What was Nicole's temperature?" 

Chase, Foreman, and Cameron looked up from their work in the DM lounge. Standing in the doorway was a very tired-looking House.

"What?" Chase asked, confused.

House hobbled into the lounge. "You took Nicole's temperature two days ago. What was it?"

"Normal," Chase answered, still baffled. "Why-"

"In degrees, what was her temperature?"

Chase raised his eyebrows. Why was House giving him the third degree over Nicole's temperature? "Ninety-eight six. Just like the-"

"Just like the rest of us," House finished. "She has a fever."

"Huh?" Cameron asked.

"Will someone explain to me what's going on here?" Foreman asked.

"Nicole has occipital neuritis," House closed the door and limped over to the table. "Inflammation of the occipital nerve caused by long-term pressure-"

"We know what occipital neuritis is," Foreman cut him off. "That doesn't explain the fever."

"She doesn't have a fever," Chase insisted.

"Yes, she does," House rebutted. "Nicole's normal body temperature is somewhere around ninety-seven, usually closer to ninety-six eight."

"That's a full two degrees low," Cameron said, doctor wheels visibly turning in her head. "What caused it? Maybe-"

"She's always had it," House supplied. "Runs in her mom's family. Point is, ninety-eight six is a fever for her."

"Occipital neuritis doesn't explain a fever," Foreman reiterated.

"It doesn't," House acknowledged. "Chase, you said that her temperature was normal so she just had a cold. Now we know she has a fever. She's got more than a cold."

"She was complaining of sinus pain when I saw her," Chase said.

"Sinus infection," Cameron diagnosed.

"And a fever headache," House added. "When Nicole has a fever, she gets a headache."

"Three headaches," Chase said. "On their own, painful but bearable…"

"…They all strike at once and you have a whompin'-stompin' kick-your-butt headache," House finished.

Chase stood up. "We've gotta get her fever down," he said. "See if we can bring her out after that." He left the room.

"After that we can start treatment for the neuritis." Foreman followed him.

"And put her on antibiotics for the sinus infection." Cameron followed the other two out of the room, leaving House alone.

* * *

"So the man broke a fundamental rule of practicing medicine, and you're just going to let him off?" 

Cuddy took a breath to calm herself. "Edward, it's not that big a deal," she said. "And he did make the right diagnosis."

"This guy goes around breaking rules, bucking regulations, and you just look the other way."

This was becoming unbearable. Cuddy looked at the tall, corpulent black man in front of her. "I talked to Dr. House this morning," she said. "I told him you might get angry, and he has a message for you."

Vogler looked a bit wary. "Oh?"

Cuddy gave a smile that had no warmth. "Stuff it."

Vogler's jaw dropped. _"Excuse _me?"

"Stuff it," Cuddy reiterated, rising from her chair and leaving her office. When the door was closed, she gave a sigh of relief. It felt really good to finally put Vogler in his place.

* * *

"Well, hello there, stranger." 

Nicole looked up from conducting an in-depth study of her blanket. A smile spread across her face. "Dr. Wilson."

Wilson walked into the room and gave her a hug. "How you doing?"

"Better than I was," Nicole admitted. She looked at his hand. "Special delivery?"

Wilson shook his head. "Just like your dad, can't keep a secret from you." He handed her the paper he held. "I found this on your dad's desk. I think you should read it."

Nicole unfolded the paper. "What is it?"

"A letter," Wilson said. "From your dad, to you. I think he wanted you to read it." Actually, Wilson knew House _didn't _want Nicole to read it, but that was-as George Banks had once observed-"entirely beside the point."

Nicole handed it back. "No."

"Nicole-"

"No." Nicole shook her head. "Just…no."

Wilson sat on the edge of the bed and tried the diplomatic approach. "Your dad stayed here all night trying to figure out what was wrong with you."

"He does that kind of thing all the time."

"Not all night," Wilson told her.

"Why?" Nicole asked.

"He loves you."

Nicole looked down, shaking her head. "Yeah. Sure."

Dr. Wilson put the letter on the table. "I'll leave this here," he said. "You can read it if you want." He started to leave.

"Dr. Wilson?" Nicole called.

The oncologist stepped back into the room. "Yes?"

Nicole tapped her left ring finger. "You and Kay got divorced."

"What makes you say that?" Wilson asked.

"No ring."

"I did divorce her," Wilson admitted. "And while you weren't looking, I got married."

_"Again?"_

Wilson chuckled. "Yes, again."

"You know what?" Nicole asked. "My dad was happily married once. You've been unhappily married three times. Of the two of you, I'd think my dad would be the one who'd have a harder time with this."

"What makes you think my current marriage is unhappy?" Wilson asked, somewhat amused.

"You're not wearing a ring," Nicole answered. "Dad never wore his either, but that's just because he was weird. You, on the other hand, are not weird that way. So all I can assume is you're not wearing it because you want to deny to yourself that you're married, or you want to keep it a secret from that hospital pharmacist."

Wilson laughed. "See you later, House Junior." He left the room.

* * *

Nicole scowled after him. _Pain in the neck, _she thought. _He knows I won't be able to leave it alone. _She stared at the piece of notebook paper next to her, battling with her curiosity. _Oh, heck with it, _she grabbed the paper and unfolded it. 

_Dear Nicole,_

_I don't know where to begin. I've never been good at this. You're not, either. Guess you get it from me._

Nicole snickered.

_I guess I should start by saying I screwed up. I wasn't the dad I should have been and I wasn't the dad you needed. You were right when you said that you needed me and I wasn't there. Your mom had been gone for barely two months and on top of all that, I couldn't walk anymore. I was scared and confused, and I got so focused on my own pain that I missed yours. You were angry at me and I can't blame you._

_I love you, Nicole. I love you in a way you will never be able to understand until you have your own children. I know I dropped the ball with you, and I'm sorry. I didn't give you the love you needed even when your mom was still around. You're the best daughter I ever could have wanted and I'm so proud of you. Yes, even if you're a twenty-two-year-old version of me with an XX chromosome._

Nicole couldn't help laughing. What a perfect doctor statement.

_I love you and I wouldn't have you any other way. When you get better and go back to __Princeton__ and go through your life, please remember that. You may not love me anymore, but I love you very much._

_Dad._

Nicole folded the letter. _Did he really write that? _She wondered. Well, it would be impossible to forge his handwriting, but even so…she'd never thought him capable of such a thing. This just wasn't the way he showed affection. _I'm sorry, Dad, _she thought. _I do love you. _

* * *

House stood over Nicole's bed. She was sleeping. He didn't move for a moment, not wanting to disturb the picture of sweetness and innocence in front of him. He almost laughed, thinking of how _un_sweet Nicole could be when it suited her purpose. 

He remembered when Nicole was little and she wouldn't go to sleep. She just _wouldn't. _Her mind was too active. She always had a handful of questions, nonstop every day: "Daddy, why is the sky blue?" "Daddy, why do people get sick?" "Daddy, how does the car work?" "Daddy, how does an airplane fly?" The list went on and on. While happy that he had such an intellectually curious daughter, House sometimes wished she'd stop asking questions and just go to sleep.

Nicole's eyelids twitched and House caught his breath. She was waking up. Would she tell him to get out? As expected as it was, House didn't think he could take it again. Not after the scare she'd just put him through. Her crystal blue eyes flitted around the room briefly, and then settled on him. She just stared for a second. House held his breath.

"Dad?" Her voice was quiet and raspy.

House nodded.

"Dr. Wilson showed me the letter you wrote."

House's eyes darted towards the end table, where a piece of folded lined paper sat. He mentally (seeing as he was physically incapable) kicked himself for leaving it around on his desk. He'd never meant for Nicole to actually _see _it. He'd just been writing things down. What a snoop Wilson was. House would have to give the _schmuck _a good dressing-down next time they saw each other.

"He also told me you figured out my problem."

House nodded again.

"Won't you get in trouble?"

"Maybe," House said. It was unlikely, but he could face punishment. Most likely in the form of extended clinic hours.

"Why'd you do it?"

House regarded her momentarily. "I love you."

Nicole's eyes glistened. "Really?"

"Really."

"Even if…" Nicole sniffled. "Even if I'm a…what was it?" She opened the letter and read it. "A twenty-two-year-old version of you with an XX chromosome?"

House laughed a little. "Yeah."

"You really meant this?" Nicole held up the letter.

House tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "Every word."

Nicole sat up and looked at him through wide, wet eyes. House internally scolded himself. What a scumbucket father he'd been. Nicole was afraid just to ask for a hug. _So make up for it, that_ erstwhile inner voice said. _Beat her to the punch._

Hoping and praying no one was watching, House leaned his cane against the bed, shifted his weight onto his good leg, and stretched his arms forward.

"Daddy." Nicole buried her face in his sport coat as he brought both arms around her.

_Daddy._ House bit his lip against the stinging in his eyes. OK, so maybe he wasn't as heartless as everyone thought he was. But he was _not _going to cry. That simply wasn't happening.

House rested his cheek on Nicole's hair. He hadn't hugged her in years. Not since soon after Darlene died. They'd both closed off from each other after that, neither knowing how to deal with the event. Come to think of it, House had had very little human contact since then, except for hugs from his sister and parents and the occasional tap on the shoulder when someone wanted his attention.

And now he was standing here, his left hip protesting rather loudly, hugging his crying daughter. It wasn't so bad, he thought. But if anyone mentioned it, they were dead.

* * *

Cameron pushed open the door to Nicole's room. Now that her fever was down, she needed antibiotics for the sinus infection. After that- 

Cameron stopped in her tracks. What was this? Nicole was sitting up in her bed, leaning on House. And the strange part was: he wasn't protesting. He was hugging her back. Cameron backed up slightly and observed the little family moment. Somehow, these five seconds she'd just witnessed did more to shape her perception of House than anything else he'd done since she'd worked for him.

* * *

Half an hour later, House stumbled into his office. He limped over to the desk, sat down in the chair, and drew in a long, shaky breath. His mental and emotional energy was completely drained. He'd felt this way after Darlene died. It was a sensation of complete exhaustion, like he didn't even have the energy to walk across the room. 

Darlene. This week had brought back way too many painful memories. House took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before he lost it completely.

There were still days that this bothered House. Those were the days he'd be short with his colleagues (even more so than usual). Sometimes they just came out of the blue; others something would trigger it-remembering their anniversary (something he'd rarely been able to do even when he was married), hearing "Beauty and the Beast" played on the radio, finding a book Darlene had read once. It made everything hurt all over again.

House rubbed his hand down his face. Yes, this week had reminded him of the awful time when Darlene was in the hospital, but there was one important difference: this week had a much, much happier ending

* * *

Cameron poked her head into Nicole's room. "Hi, Nicole. Ready to get out of here?" 

Nicole looked up from the book on her lap and smiled. "I was born ready." She climbed off the bed. She looked a lot better, Cameron decided. Her fever and sinus infection were gone, and the treatment for the neuritis was beginning to take effect. In a week or so she'd be good as new.

"Oh, Dr. Cameron, do I _have _to?" Nicole looked at the wheelchair like it was a snake.

Cameron laughed. "Yes, Nicole, you _have _to."

"I promise that I won't sue if I fall," Nicole tried.

"Sorry," Cameron told her. "Not my call. Don't worry; all patients get this treatment."

"OK, fine." Nicole sat down in the wheelchair. "When can I go back to school?"

Cameron steered the chair out of the room. "As soon as you feel ready," she said. "I'd stay away from doing any hard gymnastics for at least a week, though. If you hit your head it could make the neuritis worse."

"Will the neuritis ever come back?" Nicole angled her head up to look at Cameron.

"It might." Cameron pushed the chair into the elevator and hit the "Lobby" button. "If it does, just go see your doctor and explain the problem."

The elevator doors opened. "OK, can I get out of the wheelchair now?" Nicole asked.

"Not until we get to the sidewalk," Cameron said.

"Sheesh. Lawyers really _do _run the world."

Cameron laughed a little.

"Hi, Nicole." House said. "Ready to go?"

Nicole stood up. "Most definitely." As she stood, her left shoelace caught on the wheelchair. _"Oof!" _She gasped as she fell to the floor.

"Nicole!" Chase rushed over to help her up.

"Oh, my goodness, are you all right?" Cameron asked.

Nicole lumbered to her feet-or rather, foot-and hopped around on her good leg for a moment. "Ow." She gingerly put the injured foot on the floor. "I'm OK."

"Do you want some ice?" Foreman asked.

"No, no, I'm fine," Nicole said dismissively.

"You sure?" Chase asked.

"Yes, I'm sure." Nicole began lurching over to the door.

"You're limping," House told her.

Nicole looked at him. "Well, now we match."

House feigned offense. "Are you heckling me?"

"Yes, I'm heckling you!"

"You're always heckling people, aren't you?"

"Well, now _that _apple didn't fall far from the tree, did it?"

The duo continued their arguing as they exited the hospital.

The ducklings barely managed to contain their laughter until the doors were shut.


	7. Chapter 7

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Wow! Been a _long _time, huh? I've been away all summer, but now I'm back and have time to finish this story.

THE APPLE AND THE TREE – CHAPTER ?

"_Where _are you going?" Cuddy demanded. "It's only three-thirty! And _don't _tell me you're rounding up?"

House straightened. "I'm not," he told the hospital administrator. "I have an…engagement."

"An engagement." Cuddy nodded disbelievingly. "Right. And what exactly might this engagement be?"

"It's a…" House sighed. She'd never believe him. "A gymnastics meet."

Cuddy laughed. "A _gymnastics _meet? Wow. House, you've used some crazy excuses to escape the clinic, but-"

"It's legit, Cuddy," Wilson vouched, walking past them.

"And why are you going to this gymnastics meet?" Cuddy asked.

"Nicole's in it." House shrugged into his coat.

"So?"

"Thought it would be nice." House picked up his briefcase.

"Since when do you do things because you think it's _nice?"_

House looked at his watch. "Since about three hours ago, when I bought the tickets." He brushed past his superior. "See you tomorrow."

The look on Cuddy's face was worth all the clinic duty in the world.

* * *

House had never voluntarily attended a gymnastics meet…ever. They were long, boring, and he hadn't a clue what was going on. He should, but he didn't. 

This meet was The Battle of the Sexes-the Princeton girls' team against the Princeton guys' team. House wondered what the point was. Why have a competition where the outcome was already determined? No judge in his right mind would give this to the guys.

Nicole was lining up to take her turn on the vault. At least House knew what _that _was. She took her place at the end of a runway like a bull ready to fight. She looked down, shuffled her feet, looked up, shuffled her feet again, and stared at the vaulting table as if to say "I'm not afraid of you." House chuckled. It was kind of amusing.

The judge-at least, that's what House presumed the woman sitting near the table was-raised her arm. Nicole raised both arms over her head and began to run. _She's fast, _House thought.

Nicole pounced on the board, flipped onto the table, twirled through the air, and landed effortlessly.

_Wow! _House was impressed despite himself.

Nicole, too, seemed impressed. She bounded back to her squealing teammates, who were shouting, "Ten! Ten! Ten!"

_Ten? Ten what? _House wondered.

"They can't justify less than a perfect score for that," the lady behind him asserted.

_Ten must be a perfect score, _House deduced.

"The score for Nicole House, ten point zero zero zero."

The girls mobbed Nicole.

_Impressive, _House admitted to himself, sitting back in his chair.

* * *

"You robbed us." 

Nicole glanced up at her friend David Sinclair of the guys' team. "You say that every year."

"It's true every year."

"Don't complain to me." Nicole took her hand grips off and put them in her duffel bag. "Go talk to the judges."

"Whatever you say, Miss Perfect Ten." David nudged her playfully. "Hey, do you know that guy?"

Nicole pulled her warmup jacket out of her duffel bag. "Who?"

"That guy." David pointed to his left.

Nicole followed his point and gasped.

There, standing on the concrete steps, leaning on a cane and calling her name, was her dad.

"Dad?" Nicole whispered, hardly daring to believe it.

It was him.

"Dad!" Nicole ran towards him, pushing gymnasts and spectators aside. "Dad! Dad!" She threw her arms around his neck, delighted when he returned her hug without any hesitation. "What are you doing here?"

"I got lost on my way home," Dad started in typical fashion. "Wandered in here asking for directions and discovered you were competing."

Nicole giggled. "How did you know?"

"I know everything," Dad said.

Nicole pulled away. There was no way he'd done this on his own. "OK. Dr. Wilson?"

"Nope."

"You did _not _do this out of your own volition." Nicole stated with certainty.

"Yes, I did," Dad insisted.

"Why?" Nicole asked.

Dad looked away for a second. "Because I decided it was finally time I started being a real dad to you," he said.

"Dad, is that Vicodin doing something to your head?" Nicole asked.

"Nicole." Dad put his free hand on her shoulder. "I mean it. Your mom and you are the only two people who've ever meant anything to me. Your mother's gone, and I thought you were too. Now I have you back, and I don't want to lose you again."

"You really mean this?" Nicole asked, still not willing to believe it.

Dad nodded. "Nicole…" He gave a little sigh and looked at the ground, then back up at her. "I love you."

_I love you. _Her dad hadn't said those words in ages. "Oh, Daddy." Nicole hugged him again. "I love you, too."

* * *

"OK, what's it called again?" 

Nicole giggled. "Yurchenko."

"Gesundheit," House quipped.

"Yurchenko," Nicole repeated patiently. "That was my vault."

"OK, and the one your boyfriend did-"

"Dad, Dave's _not _my boyfriend."

"Yeah. And I'm not crippled." House looked at her. "What was it? The Quasimodo quadruple…"

Nicole reached forward from her perch in the armchair and smacked him. "You big jerk! It's a _Kasasmatsu full." _

"_You big jerk!" _Darlene had called him that. It had started out as a pejorative term, but had become a playful one as time went on.

"Dad?" Nicole asked. "You all right?"

House shook his head. "You…you reminded me a little of your mom right there."

"Oh," Nicole said quietly. "Do you still miss her?"

House thought about gliding around the question. He hated emoting. But he had to be honest with himself-and Nicole. "Yes."

"Me too," Nicole agreed.

The two were quiet for awhile. Then Nicole broke the silence. "Dad?" She asked. "Will you play for me? Like when I was little?"

House smiled, remembering how Nicole used to crawl into his lap when he was playing. "OK." He spun around on the bench. "What would you like to hear?"

"Oh, anything." Nicole pulled her legs underneath her. "Pick an old favorite."

"OK then." House thought for a second, then decided on "Music of the Night." Not exactly a kid's song, but Nicole had loved it when she was little.

After finishing the piece, House turned around to Nicole. There she was, sound asleep in the chair.

House stared at her, and then stood up to grab the afghan from behind the couch. He draped it over his daughter. "Good night, Nicole." He kissed her forehead. "I love you."

With that, House settled down on the couch to sleep.

Nicole was back in his life.

For the first time in six years, Gregory House felt complete.


End file.
